


One Minute

by TheOutCastAyh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Blood and Gore, Body Worship, Breathplay, Breeding, Brutal Murder, Car Sex, Claiming Bites, Dirty Talk, Dom Derek Hale, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gun Violence, Kidnapping, Love Bites, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overprotective Derek, Protective Derek Hale, Revenge, Riding, Rutting, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Sub Stiles Stilinski, Teasing, mob boss Deacon, mob boss Peter Hale, strict peter hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23792023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOutCastAyh/pseuds/TheOutCastAyh
Summary: John Wick style/Mob AU: Derek Hale is the nephew to a well known Mobster, and the family name is one not to mess with. When Derek's boyfriend is taken, there's Hell to pay, and he's the Grim Reaper handing out tickets. Family comes first. Always.Song inspir.: One Minute by XXXTentacion
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 458





	One Minute

**Author's Note:**

> Aye, Ayh here! I decided to start a new series, since I have nothing to do during these quarantine hours. I've also been having a lot of things going on in my life; I moved, I applied for college, quit my job, etc. There's a lot going on but I'm still going! :) So, I thought I'd start this up. So basically it goes; I pick a tag or song, pick a fandom from the list I have, pick a rating, and start writing. I picked this song out of one of my playlists, and I love it. SO I hope you enjoy, and I hope you're all tucked away in a warm blanket, reading a good book, sipping warm tea, and being safe. You deserve the best! Take care of yourselves. :)

If you said the name  _ Hale  _ around the wrong parts of town, it was like swearing in front of a Nun, or spitting in someone’s food right in front of them. No one said the name out loud unless they were in deep shit or they had a death wish. 

The Hale family had a long history reigning over New York, much like Capone did in the 20’s. 

They did good for the city; donated the money they’d obtained to charities, pulled businesses out of the dumps to create jobs, opened soup kitchens, and improved housing complexes. But their sins could not be washed down the drain no matter how many good deeds they had done. 

The Hale family, regardless of constant misconduct, were close with law enforcement. Their profitable relationship with the mayor and police meant they wouldn’t be put away, and things would be swept under the rug. Their name was greatly respected but feared. Anyone who did the family wrong would never be seen again after two mistakes. 

Although there was talk of the Hale family behind every gang attack, it would quickly be hidden from the public’s eyes with the good deeds they had done. One shooting would break out in the subway, and the Hale family would clean up a local playground, donating money to get renovated. One small drug ring being found by a nosy reporter, and the Hale family helped more people obtain jobs. 

No one getting these jobs knew of the bad things the Hale’s had done, only that they now had a way of obtaining money and supporting themselves. Those people were thankful, and the Hale family would be given praise. 

The family consisted of three.

Peter Hale, top dog, “Uncle Hale” to most. He didn’t like liars, he didn’t like cheats, and he definitely put family first. He would risk everything he has to keep his niece and nephew safe. He had a hand in everyone’s deck of cards. The mayor, sheriff, chief of justice, name it. He had the unbelievable power that no man should hold. 

Next would be Talia Hale, Peter’s niece, trigger-happy, and the center of most problems. Like her uncle, she doesn’t stand for liars, and despises every unperfect thing. Always unsatisfied with every relationship, every new hobby, and same old business. She was free-spirited, but much of a safety hazard for a young woman. She was cunning, and quick, always out of reach. A firecracker with a lit fuse, Peter adored this trait at most times. 

Lastly would be Derek Hale, a brooding alpha, almost a copy of his uncle but colder. He’d fired his first gun at nine, and had a habit of being quick-tempered. He had all the qualities of a trained killer, but when it came to love - he was a whole different person. He was open, secret rendezvous, love letters, and kept promises. You wouldn’t know it was him if he were walking the streets, hand in hand with a lover. But he always followed his heart and not his head when it came to protecting what he loved, and it’d be the death of him. 

He’d created a bad habit of falling for things he couldn’t have. 

That being the sheriff’s  _ son.  _

No one dared to say a thing when they would catch him sneaking around with the sheriff’s son, but they were surprised that the sheriff didn’t notice his own son hanging around the mob boss’ son. Or at least sneaking out often. He’d assumed he had friends. 

It was one of those nights, and Stiles, the Sheriff’s son, was leaning out of his window to a pebble striking the glass. 

“Really?” He whispered.

Derek, standing below, smiled widely. “What?”

“If you break it, my dad’s going to flip.”

“I’ll have it fixed the hour it breaks.”

“Yes, sure.” Stiles rolled his eyes. He’d gotten used to Derek’s use of power, a man who was so out of his league, and could so easily find someone like him. “Do you also realize what time it is?”

“I can’t take you out at seven, so why can’t I take you out now?”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“So?” He smirked, “Come on.” 

Stiles shook his head, glancing behind him, and back. “Five minutes.” He stepped away.

“Stiles?” 

He popped his head back out. 

“Wear something nice.” 

“I’ll wear my trashiest clothes now that you ask.” Stiles stepped away, and Derek chuckled. 

Stiles locked his bedroom door, and slipped towards the window. Stepping out onto the roof, he shut his window just a crack, and began climbing carefully down the wooden panel where the roses hadn’t bloomed yet. Just close enough to the floor, he could feel Derek’s hand on his hips, and he jolted looking over his shoulder. 

“Easy.” Derek mocked.

Setting his feet on the floor, he turned to Derek, and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Hello.” He sang. 

“Hi.” Derek leaned in to kiss him, and Stiles teasingly pulled back. It made Derek press him against the side of the house so he couldn’t escape again. Kissing Stiles was pure bliss, the excitement never ceased. Derek’s hands wandered his body, and Stiles’ smiled into his kiss. 

“What’re you looking for?” He asked. 

“Nothing. You feel good under my hands.”

“Do I? Do you know what also feels good under your hands?”

Derek hummed. 

“My hands.” Stiles tightly pressed their hands together. 

“Ha. Ha.” He deadpanned. He tried to pull his hands back, but Stiles kept them locked. “Let go.”

“Don’t use that tone with me, you know it gets me all hot and bothered.” Stiles joked, still mouthing at his lips. Pulling and licking at them to make Derek’s lips puffy. 

“I’m gonna get hot and bothered if you keep playing.”

“I like it.” 

Derek couldn’t build his anger up enough as he smiled, and it dissipated away as he kissed Stiles for too long. “We better leave before the sheriff comes out here for a noise disturbance.”

“Uh, don’t talk about my dad and noise disturbances for sex innuendos in the same sentence.” Stiles grimaced.

Derek chuckled, pulling him under his arm, “Come on.” He kissed his temple, and Stiles held his waist. 

They’d stopped at a small, closed shop and entered through the back. Derek put in the security code, and smiled to Stiles behind him as the light went green. 

“Should we really be here?” He asked, hooking his chin over Derek’s shoulder. 

“So long as we clean after ourselves. I’m good friends with the owner.” He turned to Stiles, holding his sides again and walked backwards. 

“You’re  _ good friends  _ with everyone in town.”

“I am.” 

Stiles smiled, looking around. “So what are we doing here?”

Derek impulsively leaned forward, kissing Stiles gently, and it oozed with  _ I love this, I love everything, I love you  _ all over it. 

“Don’t distract me.” Stiles pulled away, combing his hair back, “What are we doing?”

“I thought we could have some frozen yogurt.”

“You brought me out of my house, out of my bed, for yogurt?”

“ _ Frozen _ yogurt.”

“For  _ frozen  _ yogurt?”

Derek hummed, his eyes fluttering to every detail on Stiles’ face, and to his lips. 

“You better have a good reason for getting me kicked out of my own house.”

“I’ll tell the sheriff, plain and simple; I was minding my business one day, and your  _ son  _ caught my eye. He wouldn’t stop talking, and  _ annoying  _ me.”

“I was annoying you? I think it was the other way around-”

“He wouldn’t stop annoying me. So I set the rules straight, sheriff, and I  _ fucked  _ him in the back seat of my car.”

“Maybe not that last part.” 

“I’ll tell him how hot you got in my hands, how loud you could scream, how many different positions you can take it in.”

Stiles’ face began to glow red, and his breath picked up. “Maybe not. I’m trying to get him to warm up to inviting you over, not having him hate you for talking dirty at the dinner table.”

“One of these days, he’ll find out about us.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t have his shotgun with him that night.”

“I’m sure he’ll find ways to cope.” 

“Like pinning up a photo of you on a door, and throwing darts at your face.”

“He has one of those?”

“No, I do.” 

Derek chuckled, gently shoving Stiles, and Stiles caught his hand against his chest. “Yogurt first. Then we can talk about your murderous tendencies.” 

Stiles followed him into the freezer and they’d grabbed an open tub of yogurt. Scooping a decent amount in separate cups, they sat at a table, feet tangled around each other. With playful glances, they ate. 

“So, how was work?” Stiles asked. 

“The usual.”

He nodded. “So, kicking ass and taking names?”

“Just taking names.”

“Right, because the kicking ass part is Talia’s tactic.” Stiles pointed.

Derek steered his rude pointed finger away from his face. 

Stiles put his hand down. 

“I told you, I don’t do any of that  _ stuff _ . I don’t like it. I don’t have reason to.”

“Seems taboo.” 

“What does?”

“You’re quick-tempered.”

“So?”

“It would appear the stereotype of being quick-tempered is to be violent most of the time.”

“I’m not.”

“I know.”

Derek swayed, “So why bring it up?”

“Because I can?” 

He stared into Stiles eyes, and Stiles didn’t quiver like he used to. Derek didn’t have that power on him anymore. He sighed heavily out of his nose, “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“I’ll tell you what you would do without me.” Stiles smiled, “You’d be lonely, sad, brooding like you always are.”

“I don’t brood.”

Stiles smirked. “You do though.”

Derek shook his head.

“You’re doing it right now.”

He met his eyes again, this time with a sharper look. 

Stiles just smiled to this brute of a man, and felt like he could jump his bones right then and there. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might have to excuse myself from the table.” 

“Promises. Promises.” 

Stiles puckered his lips gently, biting at the inside of his mouth, and sat up on his leg. Leaning forward to kiss Derek, Derek anticipated it by leaning towards him. Stiles purposely sat back, and watching the hunger devour Derek only made him smile wider. 

“You’re gonna get it.” 

“Oh. I’m betting on it.” He smirked. 

“My hands are gonna look good around your throat.” 

“Guess I better get a head start run then, little  _ wolf.”  _ He stood up, hands pressed into the tabletop. 

Derek’s eyes were trained on Stiles as he smiled down at him, and then he was staggering for the kitchen door and Derek shoved back his chair hard enough for it to fall. Not to say Derek enjoys chasing Stiles, trapping him, and bending him over the next pliable surface like some sick fantasy - but he  _ did.  _

Derek was through the door just as Stiles was, and he’d snatched him up by the waist. His back pressed up against Derek, hand holding firm to his neck. His lips pressed to his ear. 

“You play too much, you know that?” 

“Maybe I do.” Stiles reached behind him, massaging Derek’s sides. “What’re you gonna do about it?” He let his head fall back. 

Derek’s hand squeezed gently on his neck, bringing his head forward. “I hope you like it hard,  _ Red,  _ because you deserve it.” 

Stiles let out a quivering breath as he was shoved forward, hands on the countertop, cheek pressed against the cold metal. Derek began unbuckling his pants, and shoving them down to his knees. Stiles was hard, ready to jump onto anything but the cold surfaces. Derek reached down between his legs, pressing his finger into Stiles. He was surprised to find he was pliant. 

He leaned down on him, “You’ve been touching yourself, haven’t you?”

Stiles smiled again, “Thought I should tell you, I got a new toy. Used it just before you showed. You ruined all the fun of being alone.” 

Derek’s finger went in dry, and Stiles flinched. 

“Pocket.” He grimaced. “Package in the front pocket.” 

Grabbing his pants, he plucked out a small package of lube. He tore it with his teeth, smearing it on Stiles and onto his fingers, allowing more pleasure in comfort. 

Stiles clenched his fists, bearing down on Derek’s fingers. He moaned softly as Derek worked in and out of him. With every noise, Derek was on him. His face tucked in his neck, teeth grazing his ear, lips kissing his face. He pulled Stiles’ shirt up on his back, and bit his rib cage. 

They couldn't leave any visible marks, being a “secret” relationship from the sheriff. So it resorted to much more fun ways to hide vicious sessions. 

Derek tapped Stiles‘ foot with his own. “Foot out of the pant leg.” 

Stiles began kicking off his shoe, and moaned. “Confident much?”

“Do you want me to  _ hurt  _ you or  _ pleasure  _ you?”

“Pain is pleasure. But I thought this was all about you.” 

Derek latched his teeth into Stiles’ love handles and sucked the blood to the surface. “No, this is about you teasing. You deserve to get disciplined for playing too much.” He said into his ear again. His hips jabbed hard into his own hand and Stiles’ hips that his breath shattered.

Stiles gasped, his hot breath seen on the counter. “Don’t make me wait then.” He cried. 

Derek didn’t waste a second more as he unbuckled his belt, and shoved his pants down to his knees, squeezing the rest of the package of lube onto his own dick. He held himself at Stiles’ hole, and just the tip alone had Stiles clenched around him. 

Stiles was never one for being quiet. His mouth dropped open the moment Derek started pushing himself in, and his legs spread further, ass held higher. 

Derek held his hips firmly as he gyrated his hips, keeping himself steady as so he wouldn't just fuck Stiles senseless. He needed to keep a lid on his control, and just punish Stiles’ ass enough to make him burn. So that when he sat down, he’d have to do it carefully, and when he walked, he ached in every muscle. Derek pressed himself in until he was flush with Stiles’ ass.

Stiles was gasping, his shoulders shaking, his white back blemished with freckles and bite marks turning puffy red. He began to fidget, much like when he talked, and he kept clenching over Derek. 

“So much quieter.” Derek tested the waters, pulling out and pushing in lightly.

Stiles moaned, pushing into him. His hand reached down to hold over Derek’s on his hip. “Stop teasing and just  _ fuck- _

Derek thrust his hips roughly into Stiles and he staggered forward, both hands before him, and Stiles grew in volumes. Derek enjoyed the heat Stiles radiated, from within him and his skin. He wanted to burrow himself inside of Stiles at every moment possible, to show the world he was Stiles’ lover, and no one could wine and dine on him like Derek could. He wanted to fuck every smart ass remark out of him until he was mush, until his brain couldn’t compute anymore, and he was drooling. 

Nothing but a vegetable, taking every hard thrust he could. Derek’s knuckles turned white to how hard he was forcing Stiles forward, but Stiles went like a ragdoll. All he did was moan and scream a little louder. 

Derek wrapped a hand around his neck, bringing them flush together, and didn’t let off with fucking in a new position. Stiles met his eyes, lips hovering over Derek’s as he fucked him from behind, hand at the base of his throat. Stiles moaned like a pornstar just to get a rise out of Derek, and he thrust harder. 

“If we were home, I’d split you open right on the doorstep.” Derek growled. 

“Yeah?”

“Wouldn’t even make it through the door with my hands around your neck, and my dick in your ass.”

Stiles moaned into his mouth, and Derek thrust particularly hard, just grazing his prostate. “ _ Yes.  _ Like that,  _ again _ .” 

Derek obliged, striking him hard and Stiles felt like putty in his hands. 

Stiles gasped, “ _ Touch _ me. I might come-“

“I don’t want you to. I want you to come when you get home, on your sheets, and lie in shame for what you did to me.”

Stiles grappled onto Derek behind him, and shook his head. “No-“

“Yes.” Derek clenched his other hand around his dick. “I’m gonna make a mess inside you,  _ breed  _ you, make you mine so no one can.” 

Stiles nodded, pushing back into his thrusts. 

“God, you’d look beautiful on my face.” He admitted, “But I wanna make you remember this.” He pushed Stiles forward again, pulling out. “Turn around.” 

Stiles did so, pants clinking at his ankle. 

Derek hoisted him up, his legs wrapped against him, and set him on the counter top to kiss him sloppy. Derek enjoyed stroking himself, and pulled Stiles’ pelvis forward. Stiles laid on his back as Derek entered him again. 

The brutal hits didn’t weaken, his hands now clenched tight to his thighs as he pounded him. Their skin slapped, echoing throughout the room, the squelching noises obscenely loud, Stiles moaning with a raw voice - all of it combined had Derek seeing red. His breath never wavered as he could feel himself edging an orgasm. 

He looked to Stiles’ dribbling cock on his stomach, and wrapped his hand around him. Stiles plucked up tight, like a chord struck, and his legs locked tightly around him. 

“Please, please,  _ please _ . Come together. I wanna come with you inside me,” he gasped, prostate rubbing Derek’s dick. “With your hands on my throat. I want to hurt.” 

“You’re going to be walking funny.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re going to ache in all the right places when you even sit down.”

Stiles reverted back to his louder state, eyes closed, back arched up to open himself to Derek’s thrusts. 

“Everyone’s going to know someone loves you.” He jabbed into Stiles roughly. “And fucks you good on every occasion.” 

“Oh. Oh!  _ Fuck.  _ Derek.  _ Fuck.”  _

Derek put his hand around Stiles throat, knowing he was about to come, and continued his relentless pursuit to chase his orgasm. 

“I’m gonna come.” Stiles became breathy, “It’s coming. It’s coming.” His hands twitched at his sides, begging to touch himself. Instead he wrapped his hands around Derek’s wrists, and cried out. “Right  _ there.”  _ His body coiled up, orgasm breaching, “Ah!  _ Derek.”  _ His orgasm shot out, semen splattered up on his stomach, and pooled on his belly. 

Derek forced himself to stop, allowing Stiles to go limp in his grasp, and his hands removed from his throat. A slight shade of red where his hand was. Stiles’ breath was slow and heavy, eyes shut gently, hole twitching around Derek. 

He opened his eyes, pressing his cheek into Derek’s palm and smiled. For a moment he was content, but once it was over, Stiles was back to being a little shit. Never satisfied. “I thought you said you’d punish me.” 

Derek’s hands began to tremble. 

“Fuck me into another orgasm.” 

Doing so would make Stiles burn, both from his ass and deflating dick. Derek wanted nothing more than to fulfill his promise to crack him open and breed him, but he wouldn’t last another minute inside of Stiles. He began to thrust as Stiles cried out, too sensitive to touch. 

“Keep going.” Stiles promised. 

As Derek pleases himself, Stiles jerked to his abused prostate being touched, and gently recoiled from Derek every time he thrust hard. His cries sounded near painful, and his attempts to pull away were futile. Derek’s breath became prominent, and finally Stiles saw  _ that _ man through the rifts. 

The man who he’d incidentally met and senselessly fucked in the back seat of his car with no idea who he was, just that he was hot and direct. The man who’d promised to make Stiles happy. The one who wakes him up with butterfly kisses when he comes over. The man who “doesn’t like to be cuddled”, but likes to fall asleep in his arms. 

That vulnerable man he rarely so often sees anymore through his eyes. 

Stiles clenched his hole around Derek for resistance, and saving himself the pain. It was just enough for Derek to blow his load, with a few pumps he pushed into Stiles and held still. His hands pressed into the countertop, his head hung in exhaustion. Stiles ran his nails up and down his arm, exciting goosebumps, and bringing Derek forward. 

Derek’s hand strayed on his stomach, feeling himself inside of Stiles, and Stiles grunted knowing what he was doing. He kept still as Derek lapped at him, his tongue licked at his lips, and they parted for an intimate kiss. Derek delve deep into his mouth, gently now, and sighed. 

Stiles held his face in his hands, and focused on where they were pressed together. He offered his hips up, and Derek pinned him back down. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Derek asked.

“No where.”

“Exactly.” He said against his lips. “I’m not done breeding you.”

“I would be pregnant on several occasions if that were possible.” He remarked. “We would have had a kid on the first night, in the back seat.”

“You were dirty for letting me raw you.”

“You liked it.”

“I  _ loved  _ it.”

“That’s the only way you’ll stick around. If I keep letting you do me raw.”

“Feels great.”

“Even better with no clothes on.”

“No can do. The shirt stays on.”

“The suit stays on.” He corrected. “Wear a suit everyday and we’ll have a problem.” 

“You like me in a suit?”

“I like you with clothes on and off, big deal.” 

“Noted. I’ll make sure to bring cuffs next time.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He clenched around Derek, and Derek groaned. Stiles’ legs keeping him trapped. 

Derek stood back, his hands resting on Stiles’ pelvis. 

“Where are you going?” Stiles questioned, holding his thighs firmly on Derek’s sides. “I’m not done with you yet.” He pulled on his shirt, and Derek snatched his hand off. 

Derek smoothed down his suit. 

“You still owe me an orgasm.” Stiles leaned up on his elbows. “We’re not leaving until you split me open.” He stared.

Derek was going to enjoy this.  _ Very  _ much. 

  
  
  


When Stiles went away, Derek longed for him. He didn’t speak much more outside of the world that revolved around Stiles, but when he was particularly talkative - Talia always had a say about it. 

He walked into the kitchen where his uncle already resides. “Uncle Pete, may I borrow the Chevelle for the day?” 

Peter, who hardly ever had a problem with it, turned with coffee in hand. “And when would I see it again?”

“Tonight.”

“Anything planned?”

“Just going for a drive with my friends-“

“You have friends?” Talia interjected, walking up.

“Talia, it’s rude to interrupt.” Peter stayed.

“Sorry, Uncle Pete.” 

He nodded. 

“Yes.” Derek turned to Talia beside him, ”I have friends.” 

“Stiles isn’t a friend.” Talia picked at the fruit in the centerpiece of the island top. “You know that right? What would he do if you said he was a  _ friend?”  _

“That’s none of your business.” Derek stated. 

“Well, if we’re being correct, your  _ boyfriend  _ would be Stiles.” 

“And you know for safety reasons, I can’t have that public.” 

“It’s pretty public.” 

“Talia.” Peter gestured for her to settle down. 

She went quiet. 

“You  _ may  _ borrow my car. But.. I want to meet with this  _ Stiles  _ face to face.”

Derek glanced between the two, “You know how dangerous that is. If he’s affiliated directly to you, and someone sees, he could be in danger.”

“That’s the consequence you must be willing to take this far in a relationship.” 

Derek clenched his jaw.

“If you think he’ll stay around, bring him by.” Peter insisted. “Let him meet the family. I’m sure you’ve said good things about us so far.”

“I would hope so.” Talia said under her breath.

“Don’t mumble.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Derek had time to think about this before going to pick up Stiles, and he didn’t have an all shining smile when Stiles jumped into the car beside him. 

“Wow. Nice car.” He leaned over, kissing him, and Derek didn’t kiss back with the same fever. Stiles pulled away, “What’s wrong?” 

Derek glanced between his eyes, “My uncle wants to meet you.” 

Stiles’ smile dissipated. 

“I told him how dangerous that could be, and he still wants me to bring you by.”

“Oh.” Stiles sighed. “Your uncle. The..  _ big  _ boss.” He sat back.

Derek watched his eyes. “We don’t have to.”

“You can’t go against your uncle’s word.”

“I’ve done it before.”

Stiles held up Derek’s hand, his scarred palm facing him. “ _ This  _ is what happened last time you said  _ no.”  _

Derek pulled his hand back. “I’ve done it before, and I can do it again.” 

“You don’t have to get hurt for me.” Stiles said. “I  _ want _ to go.” 

Derek looked at him, searching his truthful eyes. 

“Let’s go meet your uncle.” 

This meant going to their penthouse suite for the first time, seeing how Derek truly lives, and how his family is. If Talia is there, there would be a real show. He felt in some way that Stiles and Talia would be good friends, especially with Stiles’ quirkiness and Talia’s wit. 

Stiles held the back of Derek’s head, looking into his eyes with a sweet voice. “Let’s go.” He smiled, looking to his lips. “I wanna see your bedroom. Specifically.. your bed?”

Derek began to smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles leaned in to kiss him softly, and Derek’s hand clasped over his thigh. Stiles smiled as he pulled away, and sucked away the air Derek was breathing with his wet, pink lips. “Drive.” Stiles’ hand strayed on Derek’s stomach, low enough to almost touch his dick. 

Derek watched his eyes sharply, and pulled into drive. 

They wouldn’t be able to have sex in the one place there was constant activity and traffic, someone would start the rumor, and the rest would tumble downhill. But in his uncle’s car - no remorse for the classic detail. 

He’d pulled over in a parking lot by the docks and fucked Stiles raw before heading to the suite. Stiles walked almost behind him as they approached the front doors, they opened as two bellhops pushed the first and second set open. 

“Have a good day, Mr. Hale.” They said as Derek walked along. 

Stiles’ eyes devoured the front entrance, all elegant gold paint, murals, and pale walls. If Michaelangelo worked for anybody, he’d work for the Hale family. They approached the elevator, and the button was already pressed for him. The operator didn’t meet Derek’s eyes. 

“Good evening, Mr. Hale. And may I ask how your evening has been?” 

“Fantastic.” Derek looked to Stiles as they entered the room. “I don’t want you coming here alone.” He stated. “Don’t ever step foot in this building without me waiting for you, or bringing you here.” 

“Okay.” Stiles peeped. His hands began to shake, knees weak, and restlessly tapping his foot. 

When the doors opened, Stiles took a deep breath of the fresh air, and followed Derek. The front hall opened up to a grand suite, and his jaw dropped. 

All modern technology, all marble countertops, chandeliers, leather couches, a  _ conversation pit _ by a  _ fireplace _ . Derek turned back to his deer in a headlights stance. “Come on.” 

Stiles stumbled forward slightly, joining his side. “I think I’ll just settle for waiting in the doorway-“

“Too late.” Peter approached with a smile. 

Stiles could vomit with how nervous he was. 

“Stiles, right?” Peter squinted. 

“Yeah?”

“Peter Hale.” He extended his hand out, “Derek’s uncle.”

Stiles nodded, shaking his hand in a flimsy way. 

Peter chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you finally. I’ve been telling Derek to invite you over sometime for dinner, but he’s insistent on keeping you to himself.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, sir.” 

“Please, call me Pete.” He pat Stiles’ shoulder roughly, and he nearly collided with Derek. “Come, join me.” 

Stiles clasped his shoulder, knowing where Derek got his resilient strength. 

Derek pressed a hand to his back, and brought him along. 

Peter sat in the conversation pit, drink in hand, “Please serve yourself to anything you’d like.” He gestured to the kitchen.

“I’m fine, thank you.” He blurted. He looked to Derek, and Derek offered no assistance. He stood quietly beside him. 

“Then come, sit.” Peter pat the couch beside him. 

Stiles moved forward, but Derek hooked his foot over Stiles. He tapped Stiles’ foot, and Stiles got the message. He stepped on the back of his own shoes to get them off, and stepped into the pit. Derek stood like a lost puppy, lingered about. 

“Derek, could you fetch me some more?” Peter held out his glass. “You know which one right?”

Derek stared at the glass, and Stiles. Peter shook the lone ice inside the glass and it made Derek grab it. 

“Thank you.” 

He quickly made it to the kitchen. 

Stiles turned to Peter as he did the same, and Peter smiled watching him. “You’re not as I pictured.” He stated, “No offense.”

“None taken.” He said, “You're not how I pictured either.”

“What did you expect?” He scoffed as Derek returned, placing the glass in his open hand. 

Stiles glanced to Derek, “You’re not going to, like,  _ hurt  _ me if I say the wrong thing, are you?”

“You haven’t given me reason to.”

That was not the response he was looking for.

“I’m kidding.” Peter laughed, sipping from his glass. He watched Stiles fidget from over the rim. “So, tell me, how did you expect me to look?” 

Stiles paused a moment. “Well, I thought you’d be taller.” 

Peter stared at him seriously.

Stiles felt like he could die.

Peter let out a laugh, “Where did you find this guy?” He glanced to Derek.

“The beach.” Stiles answered.

“You don’t have to answer that.”

“Sorry. Habit. I also apologize excessively, so if that bothers you, I’m sorry.” He shut his eyes in realization. 

Peter laughed, “I like this guy.” He looked at Derek.

Derek didn’t laugh. 

Stiles nervously laughed. 

“So, tell me, what do you plan on doing with my nephew?”

Stiles paused, “You mean, like, today? Well, uh, meeting you was a thing-“

“I meant in this relationship you two have.” He said, “You plan on taking everything from him when he falls in love with you?” 

“What? No. I would never.”

“Fall in love with him or steal from us?”

“I would,” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Sir. Pete-  _ Peter _ .” He gestured forward, “When I met Derek, that was a while ago. I was naïve, and young. I grew up from what I was, and Derek has always been there for me. I couldn’t find anyone better to spend my life with.” He looked up at Derek. 

Peter saw something in this kid’s eyes that sparked a fire in Derek’s, and he smiled to himself. His boy found true love. “I’m touched.” Peter said. “Really.” 

Stiles turned back to him, nervous again. 

“Derek, stop looming over us. It’s rude.” Peter stated, “Leave us.” He waved his hand.

Derek knew not to argue, but he wanted to resist. 

Peter looked up at him, and he was dead in the eyes. 

Stiles watched Derek move reluctantly from sight. 

They stared at each other for a brief moment before Stiles looked down at his suit, he too was very stylish. 

“Now, we can speak freely.” Peter smiled. 

Stiles nervously smiled. 

“So, tell me Stiles, what is it you do?”

“Well, currently I’m in my second year of college.”

“Oh, really? What do you study?”

“Anthropology.”

“Ah. Human studies.” Peter smiled. “How are your classes going? Making payments on time?”

“Yeah.” 

Peter hummed. “Derek wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would he?”

“No, my father does currently. Just until I can get a decent job with my associates.”

Peter nodded. “And how is the sheriff?”

“Fine?”

“Just  _ fine?”  _

“Yeah,” Stiles trailed off. 

Peter nodded again. “Could I ask you a personal question, Stiles?” 

“Sure?”

“Do you see yourself in this line of work? I mean, after all, if you truly love Derek and you decide to stay together beyond this point in time, you do realize that with this job comes a very difficult task?” 

“I did.”

“To which question does that answer?“

Stiles gulped, “Uh? Both?”

“You see, you can’t be unsure about these things, especially when it comes to something as fragile as love.” 

Stiles began to back up off the couch, “ I really think.. I think that I should find Derek. I’m actually a little parched-“

“Sit  _ down.” _

The undertone in his voice was much like Derek’s, only stronger, and this voice didn’t make Stiles quiver in anticipation of getting “punished” but instead actually being harmed. He couldn’t help but sit there in fear of what might happen to his life if he disobeyed.

Peter feigned another smile. “I want to like you Stiles, because I know that you are good for Derek, and I know that you would never hurt him intentionally. Would you?“ 

“No, sir-  _ Peter.”  _

He smiled. “I’m glad we can come to this agreement.” 

Stiles nodded. 

“You can come out now.” He called over his shoulder. 

Hiding from behind the kitchen wall, Derek pursued the couch, pulling Stiles to his feet. 

“We had the most wonderful chat, didn’t we, Stiles?” 

“Sure. I mean, yes.  _ Yes.”  _

Peter smiled. “Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow night? And we’ll chat some more.” 

Stiles slipped into his shoes via Derek handing them to him. “Uh, I’d have to check with my dad, and see-“

“I’m sure he won’t mind.” 

Stiles shrugged, “Sure. I don’t think he would.” 

“Let’s go.” Derek grabbed his arm, and pulled him towards the door. 

“Derek, don’t be rude.” Peter warned as he stepped over the conversation pit, extending his hand out to Stiles. 

Derek held onto Stiles’ bicep firmly, and it hurt in a way. Stiles shook Peter’s hand. 

“It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Stiles.” He smiled, “Welcome to the family.” 

“Thank you.” Stiles glanced between the two. “And.. and the pleasure was mine.”

“I doubt that.” Peter looked to Derek, “Will I be expecting you home on time?”

“No.” 

“I want my car back in the lot before midnight. Got it?”

“Yes.”

Peter waited. 

“ _ Sir.”  _

He smiled to Stiles. “Good bye now.” He waved. 

“Bye.” Stiles slipped out before Derek was pulling him away. 

They got down to the ground level before Derek was fuming, his hands clenched tightly. Stiles was glad he let go of him in the elevator, or else he would bruise on his arm. 

“Derek?” He said softly, as to not throw fuel to the fire. “I’m okay.” 

“This is  _ not  _ okay.” 

“I am though.” 

The doors opened and they walked towards the door. 

“Have a good evening, Mr. Hale. Should I be expecting you back so soon?” Asked the bellhop holding the door open for him. 

“No.” 

His car was brought to him at curbside, and he didn’t forget to help Stiles in before himself. They were driving along, mindlessly, and Stiles grew nervous of Derek’s invasive driving. 

“Derek, could you pull over?”

“Why?”

“I don’t think you should be driving right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“Derek, please pull over.”

“I’m fine.” 

“I don’t feel safe right now.” 

Derek clenched the steering wheel. 

“Derek, please.” Stiles begged. 

Derek abruptly pulled the side of the road, and ripped the key out of the ignition. Stiles didn’t waste a moment sitting there, and got out. Pressing his hands against the brick of the building he’d parked beside, Stiles closed his eyes grounding himself. Derek opened the door, and was tempted to chuck the key into the street. 

He looked to Stiles who pressed his back to the wall, and he crossed the distance. 

Stiles put his hand out in sudden fear of this man before him, and Derek shoved it away aggressively to hold him tightly in his arms. Stiles pressed his cheek against Derek’s shoulder, staring at the empty sidewalk in fear. Derek’s hand resting on the back of his head. 

“I should’ve never brought you to that place.” He growled. “I should’ve taken whatever punishment he had. You shouldn’t have been there-“

“I’m okay.” He assured, rubbing his sides. “I’m okay.” 

“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to you. I will tear everything apart to find the thing that hurts you.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles hushed. 

Derek pulled him back enough to kiss him, but more like suck the very life from his lips. He stroked his thumb across Stiles’ cheek, and gazed into his eyes. “I will haunt whatever place I have to, burn down every building, just to find you and keep you safe.”

“I’m okay.” Stiles whispered, holding his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere right now.”

Derek kissed him again, lightly this time, and Stiles’ hands slipped under his best feeling the warmth that resides there. 

This was Derek; warm, inviting, and protective. But he was also cold, dead in the eye, and an arsonist. Stiles feared this man for his rage, and loved him for his passion. There was nothing that could trample Derek’s need to keep Stiles around. 

  
  
  


The next night had come, and Stiles panicked, having to get back to the Hale penthouse for dinner. He’d dressed up in his nicest clothes, did his hair, and stared himself in the mirror until it looked all wrong. 

He promised Derek he wouldn’t approach the complex without him around, wouldn’t step foot in it, but the lobby was inviting. He shot Derek a text, and waited down below. 

“Excuse me, sir.” A bellhop tapped his shoulder.

Stiles turned. 

“It appears there’s a car waiting out front for you.” 

He furrowed his brow. “Oh. Thank you?”

The bellhop nodded, and gestured forward as he held open the door. 

Stiles looked to his phone, and to the black truck before him. He paused on the last steps. A man stepped out of the truck, holding the door open. 

“Mr. Stilinski.” He called. “Let’s have a chat.” 

Stiles paused, “Who are you?”

“I’ll explain.” He gestured to the door. 

The driver got out and started for him. 

Stiles stepped back. “I should wait inside-“

“You shouldn’t.” 

The driver grabbed Stiles by the arm, and moved him towards the open door. 

He was forced inside, and the man followed in beside him. Their driver got into the idling car. 

Stiles stared at the man, and gulped. “I should really go back inside.” He tried for the door. 

The click of a gun signaled danger as his hand strayed on the door. “I wouldn’t.” 

Stiles eyes met a Glock in the man’s lap, his arms crossed casually, watching Stiles. He met his eyes. “Who are you?”

He smiled. “My name is Deacon. And I have a proposal for you.” He gestured to the driver, and they pulled away from the curb.

Stiles’ heart pounded in his chest. 

Derek, just exiting the elevator, searched the lobby. “Stiles?” He called. He moved for the doors, glancing around the sidewalk. “Stiles?” 

“Are you looking for someone in particular, sir?”

“Yeah. A kid is supposed to be waiting in the lobby. He’s not even supposed to be here.” 

“If you are referring to the fellow you’d been with yesterday, he just left.” 

“Left? Left where?”

“In a car called for him. They went down the street, that way.” He gestured back. 

“With  _ who?”  _ He growled. 

“I believe his name is  _ Deacon _ .” Said the other bellhop, hardly saving him. “I believe I’ve seen him around, but don’t know what his affiliation is.” 

Derek clenched his jaw tightly, and tried to level his breathing. 

“Would you like me to notify the police about this?” Asked the first bellhop.

“Don’t bother.” Derek rushed back to the elevator, and stormed into the penthouse where dinner was being served. 

Peter was speaking with Talia about something less significant. 

“Peter, a  _ word _ .” He said as calmly as he could.

Peter glared, “Don't be rude. I’m speaking with Talia.” He began again.

“A  _ word, now.”  _

He turned back to him, “Who do you  _ think _ you’re talking to?”

“Deacon  _ took  _ Stiles.”

Peter paused.

Talia was shocked between them.

“You invited him here, and he was taken from  _ your  _ property.”

“So?”

It took everything in him not to fight his uncle. It would result in bad consequences. 

“They  _ took  _ Stiles.” He grit.

“And what do you suppose we do then? Huh? Tear up all of New York? Deacon has dozens of safe houses in and out of New York. I can’t well tell the sheriff that his son was taken by a mob, because then he’d question what he was doing in the first place. Do you  _ want  _ to tell the sheriff about his son, or should I?” 

Derek was breathing heavy through his nostrils, his eyes clogging with red. 

“If you step over that line, and start a war with Deacon, you better take down every single person who stands in your way. Because there can not be any unfinished business. There isn’t a damn thing that is going to stop Deacon from killing Stiles if you even look in his direction.”

“You did this.”

“No,  _ you _ did. You brought him into this home, you put his life on the line the moment you started talking to him. You know this line of work is dangerous, and you couldn’t keep your hands out of his pants.” 

Derek growled as he moved to strike out, and Talia shoved him back. 

“It’s not worth it.” She warned. “Nothing can get done if we’re standing around.” 

Derek and Peter glared at each other. 

“Derek, I know he means everything to you, but you have to think about this clearly.”

“He won’t be able to. He’s angry. He’ll be incapable to focus on anything other than him.” He stated, “You don’t think I’ve lost people too? Because I invited them into my life, thinking I could have something of my own?” 

“I’m not you.”

“No, you’re not. But you’re just like me.” Peter turned away, “And you’re going to learn about this stuff the hard way.” 

Derek screamed, punching the wall beside him, and chipping it. 

“You better fix that.” Peter warned. 

“I’ll worry about the wall.” Talia said, trying to get Derek to look at her. “Listen to me, Derek.” 

Derek couldn't focus, couldn’t function. 

“I know you care about him, but you have to focus. You will get hurt coming for Deacon. He has people who have been his ally for years. You can’t confront him, he will start a war on our family. It’ll make things worse.” 

“You would die for Max, if you had a second chance.”

She frowned. “If I had a second chance, I would’ve never allowed myself to fall in love with him. To keep him safe.”

“I’m not leaving Stiles.”

“He means the world to you, I know-“

“No, you don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to feel something this strong, to want to have him around, but knowing something like this is bound to happen. You don’t know what it’s like to go crazy from just thinking about him.” 

“I do.” She frowned. “I know how you feel.” 

Derek stepped around her, and she grabbed him. 

“Please, Derek, for our sake. Don’t start a war you can’t finish.” 

“I’d do anything for Stiles.” 

“But does that mean you would rather die than to live with him in his life?”

“I need him safe. I’m going to make sure this never happens again.” He pulled his arm away and started for the door.

“Be careful where you step, Derek.” Peter warned, leaned against the corner of the wall. “It’s a minefield out there. One wrong move, and you could blow up.” 

“Don’t wait for me.” Derek walked out on dinner and with a plan in mind, all he was seeing was a blinding red. 

  
  
  


Stiles was moved to a church ironically, but it couldn’t be more than a front. He’d seen enough monster movies to know a front when he saw one, he was sat in one of the pews, and he stared ahead to Christ up on the cross. Praying for someone to help him. 

Deacon sat beside him quietly, the pew creaked under him, and Stiles watched his every move. 

The driver stood at the pillar beside the aisle, hands crossed before him. 

Stiles’ breath shook as he eyed the cathedral. “What..” he began but Deacon put his finger up to his own lips, silencing all thoughts.

Deacon met his eyes. “Tell me,  _ Stilinski _ . What business do you have with the Hale family?” 

Stiles opened his mouth to speak.

“And don’t lie to me. I don’t like liars.” He said.

Stiles gulped, looking to the cross. “Why am I here?” 

“Because I want to know what your deal is. I noticed that you hang around a lot with the youngest Hale,  _ Derek _ .” 

Stiles’ heart beat pounded in his chest. 

“I assume this is all under the table, considering your father is the sheriff. But would the sheriff would allow their son to hang around these parts? Unless he’s trying to get you acquainted into the business. Is that what you are?”

“I don’t work for the mob.” 

“Then what is it you do?” 

There is an uneasy calmness in his nature; he was a soft rippling current along the horizon at dawn, but there was a tricky undertow snatching up the unexpected below.

“I’m sure if I just call him, he’ll explain this to you completely. This is all just a little misunderstanding-“

Deacon motioned the driver towards Stiles, and Stiles cowered in fear as he approached. “Calling Hale won’t be necessary, I’ll return you right back where I found you, on our own time.” 

The driver held his hand out, implying that he wanted something from Stiles, and his eyes darted from his palm to his face. Deacon cleared his throat, and the driver leaned forward. 

“The phone.” 

Stiles looked at Deacon, and carefully reached for it. “ _ Please.  _ Whatever you think I am, whoever you think I am, I am not him.”

“Sure.” Deacon shrugged. 

Stiles placed his phone in the driver’s palm, and the driver handed it over to Deacon. Deacon stared at the lock screen, and smiled. 

“What a lovely photo.” He looked at Stiles. “I think we’ll get along just right if things go well.” 

Stiles clenched his hands, looking at his phone slipping into Deacon’s pocket, and back to his eyes. 

The lock screen photo haunted him, made his face turn pale, and his throat run dry. Both Derek and Stiles in one photo, Derek’s forearm around his neck, a drink in Stiles’ hand, smiling to the phone. If it didn’t imply a close relationship, Stiles might’ve already written  _ gay  _ on his forehead in marker for a bold statement. 

He stared into Deacon’s eyes, and  _ knew.  _ This was the dangerous lifestyle Peter spoke about. This would get him hurt. 

  
  
  


Derek knew he would enter this fight in a new way. Deacon was merciless, when it came to games, he liked to win. Why else would he want Stiles? As leverage. 

The Hale family always spit on Deacon‘s credit, and overshadowed him. Finally something falls into his lap, Stiles comes out of hiding to meet his uncle, and he’s swiped from Derek’s grasp. It boiled his blood, even dissipated to nothingness. He wanted to ring his hands around Deacon’s neck, but with that came consequences. He was willing to add another bullet to the chamber if he was going to enter enemy territory. 

No back up, no men, just Derek. 

They had a name for the youngest Hale, something he’d grown into being under Peter. He’d never shed blood but that didn’t mean he never would. 

Take something precious to him, and there will be bloodshed. 

He geared up; vest pulled tight around his waist, knife clipped to his ankle, Glock 26 in his holster behind him. He shut the vault before him, and shut the door tightly. Crossing his living room, he caught Peter’s eye. 

“If you go out, and you get hurt, there’s a chance you won’t come back here.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Not a single person can be a witness. Be careful who you put your trust in.” Peter poured himself a glass of whiskey, and raised it to Derek. “All hail the  _ Big Bad Wolf _ .” 

Derek glanced over his shoulder before the elevator doors opened. He stepped in, and as the doors closed - Peter knocked back his drink. Their eyes never once left each other’s cold glare. 

Derek’s first stop was the number one spot for activity. He entered the bar, head held high as he searched the crowds, and his attendance didn’t go unnoticed. The whispers of a Hale being in the club moved quicker than he could scan, eyes landed on him as he approached. 

He stared over the table of a local arm’s dealer, Isaac met Derek’s eyes as he feigned excitement. “Derek Hale. What a pleasure to see you again.” He threw his hands out. 

“We need to talk.” He bellowed. 

Isaac looked behind Derek and shrugged, “Maybe we could speak about this some other time?”

“ _ Now _ .” Derek grit his teeth. 

The women at Isaac’s sides looked to him in worry. Isaac waved them off and they quickly collected their drinks and scattered. Derek didn’t sit. 

“Please, sit and have a drink with me, I’m sure there’s something we can work out-“

Derek seized him up by the collar, and the table nearly fell over. He held him close and shook him. He had two trained guns on his back.

“It’s okay!” Isaac put his hands out to them. “We’re all friends here! Put them down!”

The gunmen hesitated.

“You’re pointing your gun at a Hale. Put it  _ down.”  _ He muttered.

The two stood down, but didn’t linger far. 

“Now, Derek, how about we go for a walk? Clear the air?” 

“I want answers.” 

“And I’ll kindly answer. When my feet are back on the floor.” He pointed down. 

Derek shoved him back and he deflated into the booth. 

He fixed his shirt, and stood up. “Alright then, shall we?” He gestured to the back hall. 

Derek followed, the gunmen did as well, but stopped at the entrance door for the back hall. Derek eyed them. 

“What is this about?” Isaac asked. “I paid your uncle on time.” 

“This isn’t about my uncle.”

“Oh.” He paused, “Then what?” He peeked up, “If this is about the Beretta, I told Pete I would replace it-“

“Shut up.” Derek put his hand up. “I need you to do some deep searching, and now.”

“I can do miracles but they take air time.” 

“Not guns. Locations.”

“On what?”

“Who.” He corrected. “ _ Deacon _ .”

“Deacon? You mean your mob rival who once threatened to rip my tongue out of my throat for selling him the wrong cartridges?” He shook his head. “I respect you, Derek, but that’s a dangerous coin.” 

“My uncle protects you, and this club. He  _ gave  _ you this lot,  _ and  _ built it on blood.”

“And I am more than grateful that I have this place. I do everything in his favor. But I can  _ not  _ search for Deacon. He’ll put my head on a plate, and put an apple in my mouth-“

“I’m not giving you a  _ fucking  _ choice.” Derek growled, towering over him. 

Isaac’s eyes trembled, glancing between his dead pupils. “What does he have?” 

“Something very important to me.”

“He take a car or something?”

“More important than any car. If he so much as touches-“ Derek reverted to quiet anger. 

“A  _ person.”  _

He met his eyes. 

“He took someone from you.” His eyes turned to the floor. “Talia?”

“She’s fine.”

“Thank god.” He huffed. He met Derek’s eyes again. “I could get hurt for this.”

“You can take the bullet  _ now  _ or when I beat the life out of Deacon.”

“That’s a suicide mission.”

“No. Deacon is running a suicide mission.” He stated, “He should’ve been removed from the equation long ago, but my uncle sat on his thumb all this time, and look what happened. I’m going to finish this, all of it, once and for all.” 

Isaac shook his head. 

“He’ll wish he put a bullet between my eyes long ago.” Derek growled. “Are you going to help me,” he reached behind him, gun safety clicking noisily, “Or are you digging a grave beside Deacon?”

Isaac stared into Derek’s eyes, void of life, a hollow shell of a man hell bent on revenge. He could only imagine the blood he would have to wash off his hands after this fight was over. 

  
  
  


Stiles was pressed down heavily into a metal chair, and he jerked outward. The driver pulled him back. Deacon smiled at him. “Jesus, What do you want?” He muttered. “I told you what I know, alright? I don’t do business with the shale family, I’m just a family friend-“

“I think you’re more than just a friend Stilinski. No one goes in and out of the Hale house easily.” 

“I don’t do business with the Hale family. I’m not a mobster, I’m not Mafia-“

“If you were the Mafia, we’d have a bigger problem on our hands.” He chuckled. 

“Then why take me in the first place? Just let me go already.” He leaned forward and the driver pulled him back into the chair. 

“Does your father know?”

Stiles paused.

“Does he know about this little _ secret  _ relationship you have going?”

Stiles went to speak but his voice vanished. 

“He doesn’t.” Deacon hummed. “It would be a shame if he were to find out. Let alone the Hale family?” He shook his head. “I know he’s well acquainted with them but I’m sure he’ll lose his mind when he finds out.” Deacon removed Stiles’ phone from his pocket, looking to the emergency contacts. 

Stiles plucked up, “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?  _ Call _ your father? I have deeper business to do with the Hale’s. You’re my bartering chip.” 

Stiles glared, “They’re not stupid enough to do business with you over me.”

“Not when it’s something this valuable.” He smiled. “Derek  _ will _ come for you. If he  _ loves  _ you.” 

Stiles hesitated to his words; of course Derek would come for him. But did he even know where he was? Could he track his whereabouts like every mob movie he’d seen? Could he really be found in time before Deacon gets impatient? 

Did Derek actually love Stiles? 

  
  
  


Derek moved to his next location. The flashing lights glared in his eyes, and he moved through the crowds like a shark. He counted two gunmen by the door, one at the bar, three by VIP, by the DJ booth, and three ahead guarding the one asset. 

He was stopped in his tracks halfway across the dance floor, a gun pressed up against his back. 

“You’ve got some nerve thinking you can just walk in here.” 

“I need a word with Argent.” 

“You won’t get shit.  _ Leave _ .” 

Derek turned to the gunman slowly, and an anger pulled in him. The two wolves within him were fighting, and he was feeding its anger. The other wolf ran off. Derek pulled the slide of the gun quickly, the bullet within the chamber stumbled out, and he ripped the gun back trapping the gunman’s finger in the trigger. He fell to his knees, and Derek kneed him in the face. Falling back, another pair of arms grabbed him. 

Derek’s hoisted off the ground, and he screamed as he kicked up bringing his weight back down. Throwing the guard over his shoulder, he scanned the club. The guards he’d counted coming for him. He fired his gun to the ceiling, both warning them and clearing the dance floor. 

One guard came at him with a gun, and he shot him square in the chest. The remaining crowd seemed to grow in volume as they tried to escape the club. Derek fired at another guard, one in the knee to drop him from running at him, and another in the chest. Another tackled Derek at the waist, and he elbowed down on his back. He dropped when Derek shot him in the back of the head. 

Blood splattered onto his suit. 

He dodged behind a pillar as he was being shot at. Checking his magazine, he shoved it back into the gun, and ducked aside as he fired a single shot killing another guard. 

  
  
  


“Do you know what they call the Hale family?” Deacon asked. 

Stiles shook his head. 

“The most dangerous mob alive. Even more dangerous than Capone and his Mafia.”

Stiles gulped. 

“Peter was big about shooting first then asking questions later.” He stated, “But Derek? What do you  _ really  _ know about him?” 

Stiles glanced at the driver. 

“Do you know how soaked his ledger is?” 

“He’s never killed a person.”

“But he’s tried. In the most brutal ways.” He pulled a chair over, sitting across from Stiles, and leaned forward.

Stiles pulled back. 

“He’s quick to temper, and maybe even sharper than Pete. Do you know what they call him?” He smirked. 

Stiles gulped again.

  
  
  


Derek fired at the booth where his asset lied, and they screamed ducking under the table. A shot fired at Derek, striking him in the ribs. He seized out of hiding, clutching his side, and hissing. The vest did it’s job but the pain resonated against his ribs, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to his feet as his vision cleared for half a second.

He was shaking with adrenaline, sweating heavily, and his thoughts scattered. 

A guard stepped into his line of sight, and he slipped away just as they fired. Derek shot them in the knee, and one to the head. Grabbed from behind, Derek’s feet hoisted off the ground. He grunted, head in a headlock, and he snatched the knife from his ankle. Stabbing the forearm holding his neck, the man screaming flailing back as Derek pulled his knife back and shot him in the head. 

Blood splattered onto his cheek. 

He made a straight line for the asset, and two guards surrounded him. Firing at both, the slide on his gun caught on the last bullet. He was out. He picked up one of the gunmen’s P30L pistol. Checking his magazine, he was empty seven out of fifteen. He turned for the booth, his asset still hiding under the table. 

“Get up.” Derek demanded. 

“Look,” he put his hands up over the table, “I don’t know how much I owe your uncle. But I know I’ve been a little late on payments. But I’ll pay in full right now, and interest-”

“I don’t want your  _ fucking  _ money.”

“You don’t?” He sat up.

“I want information.” 

“Of course. Of course! Anything.”

“I want a list of Deacon’s safehouses.” 

He paused, “You know I would do anything for you, right?”

“That’s why you’re going to do this for me.”

“If Deacon finds out I told you his locations, he would filet me.” 

“I’ll do worse.” Derek pressed the gun to his head.

“Okay! Okay! Okay!” He huffed. “He has more than a dozen locations.”

“Tell me the important ones.”

“There’s too many.”

Derek forced the gun into his head, and he pressed his forehead to the table heavily. 

“Okay! I’ll tell you!”

Derek didn’t let off. 

“I could get eyes on where he is right now, but I just need a phone. And five minutes.”

“You have  _ one  _ minute.” He growled. “Then your next one is mine.”

When the phone call had ended, and he was given an address over text, Derek stared at the number. “You have your address.”

“I do.” Derek fired a bullet between his eyes. “And my uncle had unfinished business I just tied.”

Derek turned from the bodies lying on the dance floor, and exited the club with the asset’s phone.

  
  
  


“They called Peter the  _ devil.”  _ He smirked, “But Derek is the  _ Big Bad Wolf.  _ Twice as merciless if he was given the chance, persistent too, I know that as a fact. Put a gun in the kid’s hand, and he’ll tear down the empire that took years to build. He’s a  _ natural born  _ killer.” 

“What do you think he’ll do to you then?” Stiles asked. 

“Nothing.” 

“And you’re so sure?”

Deacon eyed him, “He’ll come here when he gets the message.” 

“Message? What message?” Stiles moved frantically.

The driver stepped away towards the door. 

“What message?” Stiles turned, sitting up. 

Deacon trained his gun on Stiles calmly again. “Stay.” 

Stiles settled in, eyeing the gun, and Deacon. “Are you enemies with the Hale family? Is that why you’re doing this? Using me as bait?”

“I’m not using you as bait.” He smiled, “I’m using Derek as bait. I assume wherever you are, he’ll follow. I’ll strike up a deal with Peter, and we’ll settle our business.”

“What could you possibly want from Peter?”

“You can never go wrong with property or two.”

“That’s it? That’s all you want? Some piece of land?”

“I want his shipping docks. Once I have that, I can distribute internationally. I’ll grow in finances, and I’ll buy out every shipping company and soon.. Hale won’t have any buyers.” 

“You plan on running him to the ground?”

“Of course. After all, this city was rightfully mine. He took it from me.”

“I don’t think it’s right in your hands anyways.”

Deacon smirked, “You’re getting awfully chatty.” He stood, pointing his gun to Stiles’ brow. “For someone who’s going to die.”

Stiles clenched his eyes shut, and held his breath, anticipating pain to come. It never did. 

Deacon stepped around him, and sighed. “I hope he gets my message soon. There’s a party I have to attend.”

Stiles looked over his shoulder to Deacon, and any near exit he could manage. Any escape route, any hiding spot, but came up short. His eyes searched for a weapon. 

“I wouldn’t want to be late to my own party.” He smirked. His own phone began to ring, he answered. 

Stiles looked to the windows, and how high they were. If he used his chair as a battering ram, he could get through, but he would face a gun if he didn’t move fast enough. In Deacon’s current distracted state, he could just zip by him back to the front entrance but he’d get gunned down running down the aisle. 

Deacon turned to him. “What?” He said in an exasperated voice.

“ _ It’s the club. There’s reports of a shoot out, feds are there right now.” _

“And what do you see?”

_ “They’re rolling out bodies, D. So far, there’s ten body bags.” _

Deacon’s eyes slowly panned up to Stiles. “Who?”

There was a long pause, police sirens behind the voice.  _ “They said it was the youngest Hale.”  _

Deacon’s stare bored into Stiles’.

_ “He came in, and swept the place down. Argent is dead.”  _

Stiles stared at the change in Deacon’s face, utter shock and contemplation. He was traumatized. 

_ “What do we do?”  _

“You know what to  _ fucking  _ do. Find  _ him _ . Bring him to  _ me.”  _ Hanging up, he glared now at Stiles. 

Stiles sat in obliviousness, and flinched when Deacon moved back to the seat before him. He didn’t dare speak. 

“You must be some real prize, Stilinski.” He smiled wryly.

Stiles could only think of one thing; Derek was coming for him, and there was nothing Deacon could do about it.

  
  
  


Derek checked his magazine again, down to his last five bullets. He tucked the gun back behind him, and crossed the road between traffic. Little did he know, he’d been found with a simple game of telephone. He turned down a less busy road, noticing the creeping car, he ducked. 

The car came to a stop, the window rolling down to search the sidewalk. From up behind, he fired two shots into the open window, killing both the driver and passenger. From the opposite side of the car, the back door opened. He rushed around, slamming the door against it’s passenger, and they stumbled back. Derek forced their gun away, pulling his knife, and stabbing them in the neck. 

The window shattered beside his head, and he ducked back. A gunner followed his movement, and Derek fired but missed them. Throwing his knife at the attacker, it stuck into his chest, and his finger squeezed the trigger as the automatic rifle tore up the door. The gun went empty, and Derek pulled the knife out, stabbing him back in the eye. 

Word was out, Derek was looking for Deacon, he knew that now with this attack. 

Just around the corner, another car appeared, and Derek jumped to the other side as they opened fire. He ducked down, grabbing the semi-automatic rifle, and waited for the rain of bullets. He slipped far enough between cars to be safe, and when the hellfire stopped to reload - he peeked around the edge of his cover, aiming for the gas tank. 

With every shot he’d managed closer and closer, and three shots in, he hit it on point. 

The SUV exploded, going up in flames, and pieces of it shattered everywhere. Derek approached the car. The driver managed to crawl out of the flipped car, and Derek stepped on his back, firing at the back of his head. He turned to the passenger peeking around the front, and double tapped them square in the chest. The other passenger didn’t make it out of the explosion alive. 

Derek turned from the fire. 

But a phone began ringing. He turned back, snatching the driver’s phone from his pocket. Answering it, he listened. 

“ _ Where the fuck are you?”  _

He grimaced to the voice. 

_ “Did you find Hale?” _

“I’m right here.” He said into the phone. 

Deacon went quiet.

“While I have your attention, when I find you, and I  _ will,”  _ he looked to the flames of the car. “I’ll finish what my uncle could never.”

“ _ Let’s be civil, Derek _ .” Deacon stated.  _ “You don’t know what you just got yourself into. Maybe your uncle didn’t beat it into you hard enough, but I always win. You just started a war, Hale. You and your family are going to suffer. Starting with Stilinski. You’re nothing but a child, throwing a tantrum. I just want to talk. One on one. You and I. Unless you’re too much of a coward to do so?”  _ He awaited an answer. “ _ Hale?”  _ He called. “ _ Hello?” _

The phone was left to burn beside the SUV long ago. 

“Hello?” Deacon called. He turned to Stiles.

Stiles watched him closely.

Deacon stared at the phone, and ended the call.

Stiles glanced to it, “He’s coming, isn’t he?” 

Deacon met his eyes. 

“And he’s going to stop you.”

“Move.” Deacon grabbed Stiles by the collar, forcing him to his feet, gun pressing into his back. They walked up from the back and into the church. 

The double doors at the end of the aisle opened up, and Deacon froze with Stiles before him. Derek stepped through the doors, gun in hand. 

“Derek!” Stiles muttered, he felt like he could run into his arms and stay there. But the gun in his hand, the expression of pure rage, this wasn’t him. 

“Let him go.” Derek growled. 

“You’ve got some nerve.” Deacon said. “I heard what you did at my club.” 

Stiles’ brow furrowed as he went on. 

“You ruined my establishment, tarnished my reputation. Now I’m nothing but a crime boss in the eyes of the law.”

“You never cared about what you were to the cops.” Derek stated.

“You ruined a week’s pay for me. You don’t mess with a man’s money.” 

“You don’t mess with a man’s family.” 

“This?” Deacon shook Stiles’ collar, and he visibly clenched up. “I thought you were dirty, Hale. I didn’t think you would stoop so low. Think about how the sheriff would react if he were to find out his prized  _ son  _ were sleeping around with the Hale  _ boy _ .”

“Everything’s going to be okay.” Derek insisted. “Close your eyes.” 

Stiles clenched his eyes shut.

“Do you think you can  _ kill  _ me?” Deacon scoffed. “I run these streets you stand on. You kill me, and everyone will be after you. After your uncle, your little toy here,.. And your poor little  _ sister _ . Don’t pull the trigger, Derek. Be a better man, put the gun down.”

Stiles opened his eyes again. 

“Put the gun down, Derek.” Deacon revealed his gun, holding it to Stiles’ temple. 

Stiles’ flinched. 

A gun went off. 

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, and clenched his hands to his chest. Falling to his knees, he began to shake. 

Derek put the gun down beside him, and knelt before him. “ _ Stiles _ .” He called softly, holding his face. 

In this closure, Stiles could see the strain in his eyes. There were dollops of blood all along his face. Who’s blood? The thought made Stiles’ head spin. He felt heavy in Derek’s hands. The firm grip of Deacon no longer there. He didn’t want to look behind him, didn’t want to see the glint of a gun in the church light, didn’t want to think about the hands that were holding him. Those hands that had also ripped apart people, shot them, strangled them. 

“ _ Stiles _ .” Derek called again. “I am so sorry.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against Stiles’. “If there was anything I could do to make sure this hadn’t happened. I would’ve done it a thousand times.” 

Stiles pressed his hand into Derek’s mouth, silencing him as he shut his eyes, forcing himself not to shut down and panic. “Take me home.” 

Derek nodded, picking up his gun, and tucking it behind him. He pulled Stiles to his feet, and wrapped an arm around him as they started for the door. Stiles was weak in the knees, so Derek carried his weight. Brushing out into the open air, two police cars had parked outside. 

Derek and Stiles looked to the officers. 

The sheriff and rookie looked back at them. 

“Stiles?” Called the sheriff.

“Dad?” 

He looked between Stiles and Derek. “What is this? What’s going on?” 

“I can explain everything.” Stiles stepped forward, out of Derek’s reach. 

“You, in the car now.” He gestured back. 

“Listen-”

“No, you  _ listen,  _ in.” The sheriff pulled his son’s arm forward, and put Stiles behind him. He turned to Derek, “Any reason why you’re here, Hale?”

“Just passing through.” 

“Just passing through?”

“It’s a church.” 

“I see that.”

Derek nodded. “Any reason why you’re here, Sheriff?”

“I got a call on a noise disturbance. You wouldn’t believe the night I had. First a club shootout, and then a blown up car in the middle of downtown.”

“You can’t trust civilians nowadays.” Derek stated. 

The sheriff eyed him. “You wouldn’t happen to have any hand in these attacks?”

“Not a clue on who would.”

“Dad.” Stiles called.

The sheriff put his hand up. 

“Listen to me-”

“No.” The sheriff turned to him abruptly in an angered whisper. “You should be home, but instead I find you out of the house with Derek Hale. I thought I raised you better than that.”

“You did. But I didn’t listen.”

“Take him home.” The sheriff directed the other to Stiles. 

“No-”

“Stiles, go with him.” Derek insisted. 

Stiles looked up at him.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” 

The sheriff glanced between them,  _ “You.”  _ He pointed to Derek. “Shut up. You,” he turned to Stiles, “Go home.” 

“Dad-”

“ _ Now _ , Stiles!” 

Stiles stared at his dad with a fever. He didn’t move, but his dad could see it in his face. In his eyes. A look only his wife would’ve given him, one Stiles had adopted so well. A pleading, mournful look. “You can’t hurt him.” He said softly. “You have to promise me, that whatever happens, he doesn’t get hurt.”

The sheriff furrowed his brow at his son. 

“I love him.” 

The sheriff turned to Derek, and back to his own son. 

“I love him, Dad.” He sobbed. “I was so afraid of what you might think. But.. he treats me good. He makes sure I’m happy. It’s like what you and Mom had. I’ve never screamed at him, I’ve never cried because of him; all I’ve ever wanted was to feel safe, and he makes sure that I am.” 

The sheriff shook his head softly.

“I  _ love  _ him.” 

“You’re confused, Stiles-”

“I’m not.” 

“You are. You need to go home-”

“I’m not confused.”

“Yes, you are!”

“Why? Can’t I love another guy?”

“Stiles, I don’t care that you love another guy. You’re my son. I love you no matter what, but  _ this?”  _ He gestured back to Derek, “You can’t love  _ him.” _

“Why not?”

“He is the son of  _ Peter  _ Hale, Stiles. You  _ know _ who he is, and who I am. I put away guys like him because it’s my job. I can’t let him be excluded from the law because my son thinks he loves him.” 

“I do, Dad. I do.” 

The sheriff turned to the other officer, “Call the station, tell them it’s clear.” He turned back to Stiles, hands on his hips. “Stiles.” He began, staring into his teary eyed son’s eyes. 

“I knew the consequences, but I didn’t care. You can’t take this  _ one  _ good thing away from me. You  _ had  _ Mom, let me have this  _ one  _ good thing too before it slips away.” He looked to Derek up on the steps of the church, and stepped around his dad to get to him. Opening his arms, Derek had no other option but to hold him tightly. 

The sheriff turned to the pair, and Derek watched him from over Stiles’ shoulder. He tucked his head into Stiles’ neck, and stroked the back of his head. Stiles pulled away, looking up at him, and Derek wiped the tears from his eyes. 

“You’re okay.” Derek insisted, “You’re fine.”

The sheriff watched the two, and his heart broke into pieces. All he could see was himself, he was broken and weak and his passed wife would sew back every piece of him. She would cut pieces of herself to make him feel whole, and he loved her with everything. He loved her even more when Stiles came into the world, and when she passed - all he had was Stiles. He had to learn everything on his own, learn how to raise him, and go through trials and errors to be a good parent. 

Stiles was all he had left, and if he were killed because he loved a Hale - he didn’t know what he would do with himself. 

The sheriff turned for his cruiser, and the pair looked over. 

“Dad?” Stiles called.

He turned, standing in the doorway of the car. “I’m not gonna stop you.” He said. “But I promise you,  _ Hale _ , if one bad thing ever happens to him.. I’m coming for you.” 

Derek nodded. 

He looked to his son, and sighed. Getting into the car, he turned on his lights, and took off from the curb with the other. 

Derek and Stiles looked to each other, and Derek held his face. “I’m proud of you. For telling your father.”

“He’ll probably hate me for the rest of his life.”

“No. I think he’ll hate me.” Derek said. “After all, I took his son from him.” 

“You didn’t take me. I went with you.” Stiles scoffed.

“Sure.” 

Stiles reached up, holding Derek’s face, and eyeing the splatters of blood on his face. “No more guns.” He said, “No more killing.” 

“I did it all for you.”

He shook his head. “If you want my dad to like you, you can’t go after people anymore.”

“What do you propose I do then?”

“Leave the business.”

Derek looked away.

“Don’t follow in your uncle’s footsteps.”

“I can’t leave my sister behind.”

“I can’t risk losing you.” Stiles turned his face to him, “ _ Please,  _ Derek. No more.” 

Derek pressed his forehead to Stiles’, “No more.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Stiles leaned forward, kissing Derek, and Derek kissed him back with such a touch starved expression. He held Stiles tightly in his hands, and threatened to take his soul. Stiles pulled away, their lips just brushing. “Take me home.” 

Derek nodded, starting for the road, holding Stiles’ hand. With a call, a car pulled up to their side along the way, and they were brought back to the penthouse. Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder as the elevator went up, hands tightly held together. Derek kissed the top of his head before the doors opened, and they stepped into the apartment. 

Making their way towards Derek’s room, Peter had been sitting in the conversation pit, the fire blazing back in his eyes, a glass of whiskey in his hands. 

“Is it done?” Peter asked, his tone ghastly. “All of it?”

Derek passed, removing his gun and placing it beside Peter. 

Peter’s eyes veered to the gun, and over his shoulder to Stiles holding Derek’s hand. Stiles didn’t look away from Derek once. Derek put his arm over Stiles’ shoulder, and pushed open his bedroom door. Peter turned back to the fire, examining the gun, and a smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth. 

Derek shut the bedroom door behind him, and didn’t hesitate to take off his shirt before turning on his bathroom light and running the bath. He began removing his clothes as Stiles watched, and nothing but his chain hung around his neck. He stepped into the tub, arms over the edge. He tipped his head back, and offered his hand out. 

Stiles approached him, clasping his hand, and kissed his knuckles. 

Derek held his jaw, and shut his own eyes. 

“What’re we going to do now?” Stiles asked.

Derek lifted his head, “What do you want to do now?” 

“I want to get out of town.” 

“I’ll arrange wherever you want to go. I understand.”

“I want you to come with me.”

Derek met his eyes.

“We don’t have to tell anyone.”

“If you want your dad to like me, you have to tell him.”

“He knows I’m with you, he knows I’ll be safe.” Stiles held his hand again, “We can go anywhere. See anything.” He smiled. “Just me and you.” 

Derek smiled softly. “I’d like that.”

Stiles leaned forward, kissing him, and using some of the water to wipe off his cheek. “The sooner we go, the longer we can stay. No one will suspect a thing.”

“Sure.” Derek said. “But first, come here.” 

Stiles smiled, hands still shaking too much to function. He stepped out of his clothes, and sat with his back to Derek. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’, shutting his eyes, and leaned against him. 

He kissed Stiles’ neck, and sighed. “I will never let you out of my sight again. I promise to keep you safe, Stiles.” 

Stiles smiled, holding his forearms. “I know.” 

Derek shifted under him, and sunk a little further down just until their chests were under. 

“The water’s going to get cold.” Stiles stated. 

Derek hummed. 

“You should get cleaned.”

“One minute.” He sighed. 

Stiles smiled, tracing lines in Derek’s arms, and leaned back into him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Take care of yourself. You deserve good things. :) I don't know if this will be a bi-weekly thing or weekly. I'll decide eventually.


End file.
